


Possible side effects may include...

by pianoforeplay



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-20
Updated: 2011-11-20
Packaged: 2017-10-26 08:38:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/280971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pianoforeplay/pseuds/pianoforeplay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Jensen is sleepy and Jared takes advantage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Possible side effects may include...

**Author's Note:**

> There are definitely some dubious consent issues in this one so tread lightly if that's not your thing. Initially posted [here](http://pianoforeplay.livejournal.com/27645.html) on 11/18/09.

Jared doesn't have the TV volume up very loud, but the second he hears Jensen's door opening down the hall, he reaches for the remote and turns it down a few more notches.

Jensen pads into the room seconds later, not even grunting a hello as he makes for the kitchen.

"Hey, sorry," Jared says, guilt making him wince internally. "Am I keepin' you up?"

Jensen only shakes his head as he starts rifling through the cupboards. Jared notes the rumpled state of his hair, the stretch of his threadbare t-shirt across broad shoulders. He looks warm. And really tired. Jared's fingers twitch.

"Just can't sleep," Jensen finally mutters as he fills a glass with tap water. He tips his head back then, tossing pills into his throat and chasing them down with the water. Jared can't quite tell what they are, but he can hazard a guess and he frowns slightly in concern.

Tomorrow's an easy day for Jared whereas Jensen has yet another early call and yeah, it's not Jared's fault and typically he'd make a joke of it -- _haha, hotshot, I'm gonna spend the day playing Madden, what are_ you _gonna do-- OH WAIT_ \-- but with Jensen looking worn and exhausted and miserable, he can't help feeling genuinely guilty.

Jensen only drinks about half the glass, tossing out the rest in the sink before wiping at his mouth with the back of his wrist. "What're you watchin'?"

Forcing his gaze away from Jensen's wet mouth, Jared looks back at the television. "SportsCenter," he says. "They got a thing comin' up on the Cowboys."

"Yeah?"

"More bullshit on Roy Williams, I think. Some stuff about this weekend."

Jared glances over to see Jensen heading into the living room, thumb scratching idly at his side. "Who they playin' again?"

"Philly," Jared says, actively keeping his gaze averted from where Jensen's t-shirt is riding up slightly.

"Mmm. That'll be a tough one," Jensen says, squinting at the television. It's a weird tic Jared's noticed since the eye surgery; Jensen can supposedly see perfectly now, but he still squints sometimes, especially when he's tired. Jared's teased him about it before, but Jensen's always shrugged him off, claimed it's just a habit he can't shake. And Jared's tried desperately to not find it hopelessly endearing.

Sadie's curled up on the couch next to Jared and she lifts her head as Jensen nears, tags jingling.

"Hey, girl," Jensen says quietly, yawning as he runs a hand over her back and behind her ears, then pats her rear in a gentle nudge.

Sadie whines in reply, but reluctantly hops down, making a show of stretching her legs as she shoots Jensen a somewhat miffed expression and wanders into the other room.

Smirking, Jared says, "Cold, dude."

But Jensen only shrugs as he drops down onto the couch, pulls his feet up to sit cross-legged. "I'll make it up to her later. In milk bones. Lots of 'em."

They settle into a comfortable silence then, let the sounds from the TV fill the room. Hockey to commercials to college football in fifteen minutes, replaying and analyzing all the latest highlights and news, most of which Jared couldn't care less about. The stuff on the Cowboys is nothing Jared hasn't heard before, just criticism and speculation on their receiving team, paying close attention to Austin's impact versus Williams'. At one point, Jensen grunts something that sounds like disagreement and Jared glances over to see his shoulders hunched and eyelids drooping, the drugs obviously starting to take effect.

It's bizarrely adorable and Jared grins to himself as he carefully shifts his weight. The movement makes Jensen jolt slightly and suck in a breath, eyes once again on the television.

The programming moves from football back to baseball, yet another recap on the World Series, but by then, Jared's barely paying any attention. Because Jensen's still there, a warm presence less than two feet away and he's... he keeps lilting into Jared's space, exhaustion and drugs weighing him down with every passing minute.

"Hey," Jared says eventually, reaching over to brush his fingers over Jensen's knee. "Dude, you look like you're about to pass out."

"Mmm," Jensen replies, inhaling sharply again, though his eyes barely open. There's a soft smile curving his lips as he nods and then leans in closer to Jared, legs untucking from beneath him. And Jared's sure he's getting up, only seconds away from heaving himself to his feet and stumbling off to bed. But instead, Jensen just keeps leaning, doesn't stop until his feet are back up on the couch, knees curled in and his head pillowed on Jared's calf.

"Whoa, hey," Jared laughs, awkward as he drops a hand to Jensen's shoulder.

Jensen only groans and burrows in closer, face smashed against the warm cotton of Jared's lounge pants as he stretches his legs across the couch.

It's... well, it's not really comfortable. For various reasons. Still, Jared doesn't move for a long moment, just lifts his hand up off Jensen's arm and lets it hover there as Jensen relaxes, Jared's own body tense all over. But Jensen doesn't look all that comfortable either, neck bent at an awkward angle and limbs still all crushed in and Jared huffs out a soft breath as he lightly touches Jensen's arm again, whispers, "Here, hang on."

Jensen grunts in discomfort, but barely stirs as Jared shifts to drop his feet to the floor, just lets his head drop to Jared's thigh and then gives a quiet, contented groan as he stretches out further.

Jared's toes suddenly feel cold and he curls them in the carpet as Jensen shifts and settles, all heavy limbs and warm breath, his face alarmingly close to Jared's dick. And Jared's dick, of course, is not at all oblivious to the proceedings, twitching hopefully as heat pools low in his balls.

It's a disaster just waiting to happen so Jared finally curls his hand gently in the crook of Jensen's elbow and eases him more onto Jared's stomach than his lap, which doesn't really help much, but it's the best Jared can manage. Jensen groans but goes with it, putting up virtually no struggle at all before resting his own hand over Jared's knee.

"You good?" Jared asks once his heart has finally settled somewhat and gets a low grunt in reply. Somehow, the tone manages to calm him and put the whole thing back into perspective. Because yeah, they've... well, they've kind of done stuff before. Mostly drunken handjobs and sloppy make out sessions here and there and he'd given Jensen a blowjob that one time after Hank's birthday party because he was high off his ass and incredibly horny and Jensen had _let_ him. But they don't talk about it. They don't _acknowledge_ it. Ever. And Jared walks around every day feeling like he's about to burst out of his skin from all the repressed sexual tension.

But it's not about that right now.

Right now, Jensen's exhausted and drugged up on sleeping pills and Jared is merely in the way of the nearest horizontal surface. Just a glorified, heated pillow, that's all. And Jared can be cool with that. He has a repeat of the Spurs game about to start, a cold beer at his fingertips, a lapful of one exceedingly gorgeous co-star and a day off tomorrow. Life could be worse.

Jared's careful to move as little as possible when the game starts up, keeping his celebrations and criticisms to himself. It's not too difficult given that he already knows the outcome and a couple of the more spectacular plays and he eventually starts to relax, his hand resting on Jensen's side, thumb rubbing idly over the soft fabric of his friend's t-shirt.

Jensen occasionally snuffles in his sleep, quiet little hitches in his breath that seem to rouse him for all of about two seconds before he's fast asleep again. Smiling softly, Jared smooths his hand up over Jensen's arm and shoulder, trails a finger along the nape of his neck, skin warm. Jensen's hair is softer there, a light fuzz under Jared's fingertips, and it's probably a little weird, but Jared assures himself it's completely innocent, that it's only meant to soothe, to keep Jensen feeling safe and comfortable enough to continue sleeping.

And it seems to work until about halfway through the second quarter, when Jensen stirs and blinks his eyes open, stares blankly straight ahead at the television. A weird sort of guilt spreads through Jared's middle and he gently lifts his hand, a silent indication that he has no intention of forcing Jensen to stay there even though he kind of desperately wants just that. His legs are starting to go numb and he'll probably have to pee pretty soon, but he's already addicted to this, to having Jensen warm and pliable and plastered against him.

He holds his breath as he waits for Jensen to realize where he is and finally garner enough energy to move. Because Jensen's bed is doubtlessly more comfortable than Jared's leg; the only obstacle is _getting_ to it.

But Jensen only huffs out a breath and groans sleepily as he shifts, his shoulder knocking into Jared's outer thigh as he rolls over onto his opposite side.

And then Jensen's face is right up against Jared's stomach, all warm breath and warm cheek and Jesus Christ, Jared can't fucking _breathe_.

He tries to keep still, tries to force himself to relax as every sensible part of his brain screams at him to shake Jensen awake and help him to bed. It wouldn't be difficult. Hell, Jared could _carry_ him if it came to that; Jensen's probably too out of it to give a shit about pride right now anyway.

But Jensen's a heavy, solid weight on his legs, nothing but a lump of warmth and Jared can't-- every time Jensen exhales, there's a brush of hot air against Jared's lower stomach and Jared can't bring himself to pull away from it. It's an addictive and maddening sort of torture, one he's relishing even as it threatens to slowly drive him out of his mind.

Which is why when he finally lowers his hand again, settling it on the patch of bared skin between Jensen's t-shirt and boxers, he's pretty sure he can make the argument that he's simply not thinking clearly. It's made all the worse when Jensen rocks against the touch, hips shifting up briefly into Jared's palm and then down again as he burrows closer.

His lips are just a breath away from the drawstring of Jared's pants and Jared groans, "Ah, fuck," frustrated and hopelessly turned on as he gently -- very, very gently -- tries to shift his hips away from the weight of Jensen's head.

He stops as soon as he realizes he's only making his dick more interested and drops his head back against the couch, sucks in a strained breath through his nose.

With his eyes closed, he breathes in slow -- in, out, in out, -- and tries focusing on the sounds of the game, the squeaks of rubber on wood flooring, the incessant chatter of the commentators and cheers from the crowds. But it's not enough, not _nearly_ enough to distract him from Jensen's warm breath and heavy weight and he can feel his defenses crumbling with Jensen's every exhale.

He lifts his head after a long, torturous moment, fingers twitching on Jensen's side. Jensen doesn't move or make a single sound and Jared shoves every argument of how very very bad and wrong and creepy the whole thing is and slides his hand up higher, palm spread wide across the expanse of Jensen's ribs, feeling every slow breath and gentle shift of skin over muscle.

He freezes the second Jensen stirs, oxygen held tight in his lungs as Jensen nuzzles against him, cheek brushing Jared's erection, unintentionally teasing and Jared can't help the whimper that squeezes past his lips, just as he can't help the way his fingers tighten on Jensen's side.

But Jensen doesn't seem to notice either one, just snuffles softly, lips parting on another warm breath that makes Jared's cock stiffen further in his pants.

"Jesus," he whimpers, fighting the impulse to rock his hips upward, to push gently against the jut of Jensen's cheekbone.

It's suddenly too much, everything way too near the surface, and he drops his free hand from the arm rest to palm the curve of Jensen's head, gently trying to ease him off, to get some kind of relief.

But Jensen gives an immediate groan of disapproval, sounding every bit like a sleepy, petulant five year old as he turns his head away, smashes his open mouth against Jared's crotch.

Jared bites back a gasp as his cock pulses, unmistakable now in its urgency, and the rest of his body trembles with the effort to keep still.

It'd be so easy, he thinks. So easy to just hold Jensen's head in place and rock his hips upward, let the friction and Jensen's warm breath shove him over the edge. So easy and so, _so_ fucking wrong, but holy hell does he want it.

His hips twitch at the thought and his hand slips from Jensen's side down to his stomach, the backs of his knuckles dragging along the trail of hair below Jensen's navel. Muscles flutter under the touch and Jensen groans again, quieter this time, more air than sound and Jared's eyes roll back in his head as Jensen's lips brush against him through cotton.

"Fuck," he breathes, still just a whisper, fingers curling slightly in the short strands of Jensen's hair. "Fuckfuck _fuck_."

The television is little more than white noise now, a quiet hum as everything narrows to the blood pumping in his ears and cock, the brush of warm air from Jensen's lips and the flutter of muscle under Jared's fingertips. The room is too loud and too quiet both at once and Jared gives another impulsive roll of his hips that has Jensen groaning again, breath hot through the fabric and then-- oh Jesus, then Jensen's lips are on him, not just a sleepy accidental brush, but _on_ him, mouthing slow and clumsy over cotton.

It seems impossible and still vaguely creepy and Jared's afraid to look down, afraid to see the look on Jensen's face, steely and accusative. Betrayed. So he closes his eyes tight and bites down on his lip, trying with everything in him to steady his breathing and keep as still as possible.

But Jensen's mouth isn't stopping, lips gentle, but more insistent, like he's... fuck, like the asshole knows just exactly what he's doing.

The thought makes Jared's eyes snap open and he looks down, catches Jensen looking right back up at him, eyes dark and hazy, but open. Definitely open.

"Jesus, _Jensen_ ," he groans, half question and half plea. Plea for what exactly, he isn't sure. For more, maybe. For Jensen's lips wrapped wet and hot around him, sucking him down. Or for Jensen to stop altogether, to just stop fucking teasing him and go to bed so Jared can jerk off in peace and they can both move on and once again ignore that anything ever happened.

There's a hint of a grin on Jensen's lips when he answers with a low hum and Jared jolts at the sensation, clenches his hand tight in Jensen's hair.

"Fuck, are you-- you been playin' me?"

And Jensen's definitely grinning then, the skin crinkled at the corner of his eyes as he lifts his head just a little, sneaks a hand up onto Jared's thigh. "Jus' so easy," he murmurs as he tugs at the drawstring of Jared's pants, curls his fingers into the waistband.

Jared's hips lift on instinct and he huffs out another breath, stomach still tight as he struggles to figure out just what the hell's going on.

Jensen's movements are slow and clumsy, but determined, his brow furrowed in concentration. Jared can't stop watching him, can't look away if only so he can convince himself this is really happening.

"Oh God," he groans when Jensen finally succeeds in getting Jared's pants down low enough for his dick to spring free. It slaps back against his belly before Jensen wraps a hand around him, gives one lazy tug from root to tip.

He's grinning when he presses his lips to Jared's shaft, soft and dry, kissing a trail down to the thatch of Jared's pubic hair and Jared feels his neck flush as he growls, "You are such-- such afuckin' asshole, Jesus Christ."

That earns him a flick of tongue and the slow drag of Jensen's thumb over the head. Jensen's face is pressed in close, nose burrowed in the low of Jared's belly as he mouths lazily.

"God, seriously... Jensen..."

Jensen squeezes him then, just tight enough to make the words stop short in his throat and his hips arch up for more, before easing again, stroking him slow and unhurried. Jensen's breath is steady and warm against the base, soft and even, like he's maybe still half asleep. Maybe not really aware at all.

It's a chilling thought and Jared abruptly shoves a hand down to his lap, fingers wrapping firm over Jensen's, stilling his hold.

"Gotta-- _fuck_ , Jensen, gotta stop. You don't wanna be doin' this."

Jensen growls in reply, gaze flicking upward as he tightens his grip. He still looks tired. Dazed, even. But there's a heat behind it Jared recognizes all too well and whatever last shred of restraint he had goes up in flames.

He doesn't voice his surrender. Doesn't need to. Between one breath and the next, Jensen's mouth is on him, pressing wet, clumsy kisses up his length, tongue flicking out over the crown and then swiping back down. Jared's hips stutter and his head falls back as he gives and lets go, dropping his hand to Jensen's side once more as he stares up at the ceiling.

Jensen paints his dick with leisurely licks and sucking kisses, lips pursing at the ridge and tongue flicking over the slit. Jared can feel Jensen's every breath, chest expanding against Jared's thigh, a brush of heat along Jared's dick with every exhale. He's trapped under the weight, held in place by every sweep of Jensen's tongue and it's all Jared can do to not unravel completely. He feels crazy with pleasure, delirious as he struggles to regain his footing, to find some semblance of control. His hand scrambles from Jensen's bare side to his stomach and then lower, cupping Jensen's dick through his boxers. He feels a surprising rush of disappointment when he finds Jensen only half hard, but he doesn't loosen his grip any, doesn't pull away, just presses down with the heel of his hand.

"Fuck," Jensen groans, stopping to breathe against the over-sensitive skin of Jared's dick, nose bumping the shaft as his hips arch upward.

The momentary reprieve has Jared biting down on his bottom lip and twisting his wrist, grunting softly as he works Jensen through his shorts, feeling him gradually harden. The angle is completely awkward, but it's all worth it when Jensen bends one leg at the knee and tilts his pelvis forward, giving Jared better access and encouraging with quiet, stilted whimpers.

Jensen's cock swells in his palm and Jared groans at the feel of it, skates his fingers lower to the heft of Jensen's balls, fondling clumsily through the fabric as Jensen's nose nudges Jared's own dick, teasing with every breath and faint lick.

"C'mon," Jared growls when the teasing starts to become too much. His hips buck slightly, jostling Jensen's head and he fumbles his hand beneath the elastic waistband of Jensen's shorts, wraps his hand tight around Jensen's cock and starts jacking.

"Oh _God_ ," Jensen groans, his voice still muddled as his lips brush Jared's dick, pursing and dragging along the underside.

Jared watches Jensen's eyelids flutter, dark lashes against pink cheeks as he whimpers, looking dazed and needy and entirely too fuckable and it's all Jared can do to not reach down with his free hand, force his dick into Jensen's loose, wet, waiting mouth.

"Jensen," he groans instead, giving a gentle squeeze. "Jensen, c'mon. Please, man, I need. Fuck, I _need_ \--"

And that seems to be enough for Jensen to get the clue, five o'clock shadow grazing lightly as he turns his head. And then warm, soft lips are all around him, sucking down the head, tongue broad and flat all the way down.

"Ohh-- oh, _Jesus_."

Jared's grip falters as Jensen takes him in deeper, making a lazy, slurping noise as he starts in. Jensen's hand slides from Jared's thigh to his cock, holding him place as his mouth works, sloppy and eager and Jared's thighs twitch with every suck, his stomach tightening at the delicious burn coiling low in his spine, sweat making his t-shirt stick to his skin.

"Please," he whimpers, hair falling over his eyes as he keeps his head lowered, not wanting to ever look away from the sight of Jensen's lips stretched wide around him. "Fuck, _please_. So... so good, Jen. So fucking _good_."

Jensen answers with a low sound, hungry and muffled around Jared's cock and Jared grabs onto Jensen's bare hip as his own snap upward convulsively, the head bumping the back of Jensen's throat. Jensen rocks back immediately, breathing hard and scowling.

"Fuck, sorry," Jared grunts, though he's too far gone to truly mean it.

"Mmm," Jensen replies, doubt coloring his tone even as he takes Jared's dick in a firm grip and starts jerking him rough and slow, his gaze locked on Jared's.

And that's all it takes: Jensen's hand and warm breath, his eyes, blown dark with sleep and hunger, his bruised, reddened lips. That's all it takes: three-four-five strokes and he's done, jizz spurting free, striping Jensen's chin and cheek, clinging to the slope of his eyebrow. Jared watches it, heart hammering in his chest as spunk streaks down Jensen's face, catches on his eyelashes and the corner of his mouth.

"Oh Jesus," Jared groans again as Jensen wrings him dry, come coating his fingers, slick and sticky. "Jensen..." he whines, his dick giving one last feeble twitch of completion before Jensen lets go, replaces his hand with his mouth, licking and sucking him clean with soft, barely-there touches.

It's just on the right side of too much, every flick of Jensen's tongue sending a fresh jolt straight to his core and he hisses in a breath, fumbles a hand back down to Jensen's cock, finding it still hard, heavy in his grip.

His reward is immediate, Jensen releasing a loud, aching groan as his head falls to Jared's thigh, breath hot against wet skin.

"God, Jen, c'mon," Jared grunts, wrist twisted for the best grip, his palm sliding up over the head of Jensen's dick with every upstroke, collecting a dribble of precome.

Jensen's lips brush his balls on a heavy exhale and Jared fights a shudder, quickening his pace with a fierce determination. Jensen's hips rock forward, thrusting into the circle of Jared's fist, stilted and awkward as his sticky hand slides up to grab at Jared's side for support.

"Fuck, don't-- don't stop," Jensen mutters, face still buried in Jared's lap, the rasp of his stubble scraping Jared's bare thigh. "Don't-- _God_ , make me come, Jay. Make me _come_."

"Jesus, Jensen," Jared breathes, heat sliding hot and fast down his spine. Because that's exactly what he wants, exactly what he _always_ wants and Jensen's breathy, strained moans are only making him want even more. "You've got no idea," he says, barely more than a whisper as he stares down, drinks in the sight of Jensen stretched out across him, needy and strung out on pleasure and completely at Jared's mercy. It makes his lips curl with hunger, makes his voice drop down low. "Fuck, man, the things I wanna do to you... Wanna get inside you, wanna fuck you so hard you can't walk, wanna lick you clean and do it again, wanna taste my come in your mouth."

He hardly knows what he's saying, too caught up in the feel of Jensen's frantic heartbeat against his leg, the weight of his cock and every strained, whimpered breath. It's probably too much, too honest, just a shitload of more things they won't ever talk about, but right then, he doesn't care. He doesn't care because Jensen's shattering beneath him, cock jerking and pulsing in his grip, sticky and wet over Jared's hand. Jared watches the jizz spurt up over Jensen's stomach, watches it catch and cling to his shirt and shorts, creamy white against dark fabric. His own dick twitches in sympathy.

Jensen's got a good load and it makes Jared's fist nice and slick as he keeps stroking, squeezing tight up near the head to watch a few more drops squeeze free. Jensen whimpers beneath him, shudders as he turns his head and blinks his eyes open. They settle hazily on Jared's and Jared swallows as he eases his hold, slides his fingertips through the mess over Jensen's belly.

The quiet noise of the television starts to filter in through the haze, a truck commercial Jared's seen a million times. He doesn't need to look up to recognize it and can't tear his gaze away from Jensen's anyway.

"Uhm," he says after a long moment, suddenly awkward and nervous. And then his lips twitch into a frown as he darts a glance down at where Jensen's shirt is hiked up, the bared skin glistening with sweat and come.

Guilt swoops in fast, lands heavy in Jared's stomach because, _Jesus_ , he's just molested his best friend, just-- just taken what he wanted while Jensen was too tired and too drugged up on sleeping pills to say no. It's heinous. Unforgivable. And he has no idea if Jensen will even remember it, but _he_ will; there's no fucking way he's ever going to forget this.

"God, Jen," he starts, gut churning with remorse, but Jensen only grumbles roughly and shifts closer, murmuring, "No talking," as he smashes his face into the skin of Jared's belly.

Jared winces, muscles tense as he rests his clean hand at Jensen's nape. Says, "Jensen. C'mon, man. I'm sorry, I didn't-- I wasn't thinking. Shit, I wasn't--"

His words are cut off when Jensen lifts his arm, sticky fingers finding Jared's jaw before clamping wearily over his mouth.

"Seriously," Jensen says, words still muffled against Jared's belly. "Shut the fuck up."

Jensen's hand is sharp with the scent of Jared's spunk and Jared closes his eyes against it, fights another swell of guilt and want.

"'Kay?" Jensen asks, head still cradled in Jared's lap. He's not looking up at all, eyes closed and voice groggy as his hand slides clumsily to Jared's cheek, gives it a weak pat. "Ya good?"

Jared swallows and manages a bare nod before Jensen drops his arm away and wraps it around Jared's middle, hand tucked between him and the back of the couch.

And Jared does as he's told, keeps his mouth shut if only because he's too stunned to do much else. His ass is going numb and his dick is still hanging free, limp now under the weight of Jensen's head. But he doesn't move, can hardly even breathe. The guilt's still there, tickling just under his skin, but there's something else, too. Something Jared's afraid of looking at too closely, something he's scared to put a name to for fear of it vaporizing come daylight.

Minutes later, Jensen's breathing has evened out, his throat whistling softly with every exhale and Jared brushes a finger along the short hairs at the back of Jensen's neck and watches the rest of the game.

The Spurs end up losing, but with Jensen snoring quietly in his lap, Jared can't bring himself to care.

 **end.**

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] Possible Side Effects May Include...](https://archiveofourown.org/works/833800) by [applegeuse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/applegeuse/pseuds/applegeuse)




End file.
